Her Name Is Julia

We met, and a dream came true. A dream I had a while ago, of the dark-haired girl's clothes simply flying off her body as if of their own accord, and moreover, the meaning of that act, has become reality. We listened to a thrush warbling in the woods. And though I felt tenderness, it is not towards her, Julia, just yet. For now it's still all dissolved in the general fear and hatred that this world promotes. For now, it is just a political act. However, I have hope, as I must have, that one day there will be pure love and intimacy without a shadow of the hate and fear we are now absorbed by. If not for Julia and me, then it must someday exist for the future.